Catching Keeler and the Cost Associated
by CatchingKeeler
Summary: Encke/Keeler "Task name Michael. Meet your Gabriel." James tried hard not to sneer at the name. Angels. They should know better. Regardless of his displeasure, he turned from Bering to his approaching navigator- he was no angel...It was going to be a long deployment. Before Encke, he was Michael, and Keeler was a delicacy in which he could not indulge.


Chapter 1: The Fall of an Angel

"Task name Michael. Meet your Gabriel." James tried hard not to sneer at the name. Angels. They should know better. Regardless of his displeasure, he turned from Bering to his approaching navigator- he was no angel. Three piercings adorned his face: two in the right ear and one on his bottom lip. His hair was an unruly mess with nearly an inch of dark roots at the base, damaged and worn from the dye and bleach; not always having worn the customary blonde locks. A bored expression sat behind dark lashes and a creased brow, as Gabriel crossed his arms over his narrow frame and gave James- now Michael, a rather scrutinizing once over.

Command had a shit sense of humor, pairing them together.

Having been raised under the rule book of the Alliance, Michael was regulation perfect from head to toe. Clean shaven, dressed sharply and spotlessly. He had expected nothing less from his navigator. This. This was a rather unwelcome surprise.

"Gabriel," Hayden's voice rang loud and clear, snapping Michael to attention- spine straight and chin high, eyes locked to the commanding officers, just as he had been trained. The slumped and uninterested posture his navigator kept was nothing short of a bewilderment to him. "You are dismissed. Please show Michael to your barracks."

Without so much as a 'Yes Sir' or any acknowledgement that his superior was addressing him, Gabriel turned on his heel and strutted out the door of the briefing room, leaving a very shocked and rather displeased fighter behind. Michael had been under the impression that the rules implemented during basic; the ones that had been furthermore drilled into himself and his comrades through discipline and long hours; would be extended to the navigators. Rules such as keeping up appearances and respecting your superiors- the failure of which would result in extra laps, time in the brig, and with appropriate severity- immediate discharge.

It seemed as though he was wrong.

Not that it was much of a surprise. After all, the Navigators were the prized possession of the enterprise. They could do as they pleased, as it was no secret that the Alliance needed them; relied on their brilliant minds and nimble dexterity. The fighters- they were disposable. Cannon fodder. Brutish and moronic oafs, with the sole purpose of pushing the buttons that the Navigators couldn't reach.

With gritted teeth and a muttered- but polite "Sirs", he gave a curt nod and followed after his navi. His Gabriel. Something he had looked forward to, until that moment.

From behind, Gabriel looked even more disheveled. His civilian attire was unkempt; untucked and wrinkled. He walked as if he had no purpose- slow and tremendously loud. His footsteps echoed in the corridor, loud enough to make Michael cringe. It was a sure sign that Gabriel had never had to lie, nor cheat, nor steal his way out of anything. The world had been handed to him on a silver platter, and he wasn't ashamed of his presence in the least.

In that moment, Michael silently hoped that they would never come to an emergency in which a 'shelter in place' was issued. They would sure as hell be found fast- if not first.

They came to an elevator bank where the 'call' button was mercilessly jammed beneath Gabriel's thumb. Michael risked a glance at his hand- smooth pale skin, without a scar or scab to rough up his delicate features. Well-manicured, but otherwise untouched. They shamed Michael's hands. Calloused and scarred; blistered and worn, like a true fighter's. He had no delicate disposition. Gabriel had something to hide.

Catching his stare, Gabriel forced his fist back into the pocket of his jacket, gritting his teeth with a pointed glare. Yes, something to hide- but nothing to prove. He was just like the rest of them. A weak boy, stolen behind a wild personality and a brilliant mind.

'Don't let them see your weakness.' At least that rule was extended to the navigators.

The elevator came with a soft purring sound, landing almost silently before them and sliding open its thick doors.

They rode in absolute silence, neither sparing a glance at the other. Michael held his breath as he watched the counter overhead. Deck 3. Deck 4. 5. 6. 7. Deck 8 and the doors whirred back open. The corridor looked remotely the same as the one below if only a bit dimmer. Everything was starch white and reeked of high grade chemicals amongst sweat and other bodily fluids Michael would rather not dwell on.

Just as loudly as before, Gabriel started his obtrusive march down the hallway, forcing his new partner to hold back an exasperated groan.

After following his navigator for what seemed like ages, Michael came to an abrupt halt, crossing his heavy arms over his broad chest. They had passed the same elevator bank three times now. As if he hadn't noticed a thing, Gabriel kept walking until Michael spoke out- low, gruff, and full of spite.

"Quit walking in circles. I'm not blind."

A small smirk over the shoulder and Michael about lost it. He was already, in the first few minutes they had been assigned, trying to get on Michael's shit-list. He knew exactly what his smug look, rumpled appearance, and 'I own this place' act was doing to his new fighter. Gabriel was practically asking for it. A swift lesson in discipline and respect would do him good-

"Easy there, tough guy. I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Michael unclenched his jaw, relaxing his sneer and backing off from where he'd cornered his navigator. The one who was speaking to him for the first time. His voice was melodic, like a navi's. But, he held the same stupid smirk that his comrades often gave him back in basic. Michael thought twice about knocking in his front teeth before he dropped his hands completely from the disinterested boy. He cleared his voice and lowered his eyes to the floor.

"I... I don't know what came over me," he tried through a tightly set jaw. He was never keen on apologizing. Gabriel brushed off some imaginary dirt from himself before meeting his gaze.

"Anger, stupidity, lust... I wouldn't expect any less from a fighter," he hummed as he turned to the door he'd just been thrown against and swiftly typed in a code. "Good choice by the way. I wouldn't have pegged you as smart enough to find our room by yourself." The doors slid open, and he paraded inside with a mocking grin. "You must be full of surprises!"

Oh. Fuck. No.

Fuming, Michael shoved into the room behind him, his face heated with outrage. He had just barely heard the doors whisper closed behind him as he gathered a fistful of Gabriel's shirt and backed him into the closest wall. He bit back venom as he narrowed his fury. "Listen here you little-!"

"No, tough guy- you listen!" Digging his perfect little nails into Michael's wrists, Gabriel leaned in with equal fire in his vibrant eyes. "I don't care who you are or where you come from- I am NOT your bitch! I don't need your help and I sure as hell don't want it! You stay the fuck away from me and I'll keep your ass alive in the field. Sound like a plan?"

Michael gave a hard sneer, but after a moment backed off. Contrary to popular belief- he wasn't an idiot. He knew that despite the lack of physical damage they could induce, navigators could quickly have anyone discharged with a quick alteration to their file. Silent, but deadly. Michael wasn't foolish enough to throw away years of training for a petty fight. Gabriel simply wasn't worth it.

He was about to retort with some threat or another, when a soft knock resonated on the door. A frail voice followed.

"Gabriel...? Are you alright? I heard yelling and-"

"Fine, Elijah. I'm fine," was Gabriel's immediate reply, as he shoved himself off of the wall and out of Michael's grasp. He gathered himself and keyed open the door where a short, slim blonde was wringing his hands with a look of pure terror in his wide blue eyes.

Michael watched as Gabriel motioned for the boy- deemed Elijah, to start down the hall, where he would soon follow. But, before he took a step, Gabriel turned and leveled Michael with his icy stare.

"Oh- and keep your hands to yourself. You aren't all that, Michael," he drawled with unmistakable disgust. With that, he turned and strode away, leaving Michael to seethe in silence.

It was going to be a long deployment.


End file.
